


3.26 Wendip Week Stories

by William_Easley



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Nudity, Teen Romance, mild suggestive language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 04:46:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/William_Easley/pseuds/William_Easley
Summary: These seven stories were written for Wendip Week at Tumblr and responded to the prompts School, Typical Pines Luck, Combat, 	Date Night, Flirting, Moving in with Each Other, and Bedtime Story. These are NOT in my usual GF continuity and exist in some other universe somewhere. Nothing really explicit, but some nudity and some suggested intimate situations.





	1. Exchanged Student

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of the characters; both are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of Alex Hirsch. I make no money from these stories but write just for fun and in the hope that other fans enjoy reading them. I will ask, please, do not copy my stories elsewhere on the Internet. I work hard on these, and they mean a lot to me. Thank you.

**Exchanged Student**

**by William Easley**

_(Not part of my normal continuity and written for the Wendip Week 2018 prompt "School")_

* * *

It was January of 2015, and the first day of school after the Christmas break. Wendy Corduroy, Vice-President of the Senior Class, showed up sleepy and resigned to another five months of school before—freedom!

The other members of her class were already buzzing with plans for college. Wendy, not so much. During the summers, she and Dipper had talked about going to college together somewhere, but he'd been accepted at a prestigious technical institution in California, and she had not yet applied, mostly because she was positive she couldn't hack it.

But maybe there was another college nearby. She cursed her habitual laziness. Really have to get on the stick this month, find those schools, put in her application. Maybe tomorrow.

Everything went fine until first-period Senior English. She walked into the classroom, dropped her books on her desk, and dropped her jaw to the floor. Well, not really, but it felt like that. She slipped into her seat and said, "Dude! What are you doing here?"

Dipper Pines smiled at her from the next desk. "Hi, Wendy! I guess this is a surprise, huh? I transferred up from my normal school to finish up the year here with you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Wendy asked. She couldn't help laughing. "Oh, man, this is such a—did Mabel come, too?"

"Mabel?" Dipper asked. "Uh, no. she wanted to finish the year at, you know, our school."

"Oh?" For some reason that bothered Wendy. Where Dipper went, Mabel was sure to follow. "Did something—"

"Settle down," the teacher said. "Welcome back from break, and I hope you haven't forgotten everything we learned up until December! We've got a new student with us, and I think many of you know him already—Dipper Pines. You're in Timmy Abbott's seat, Dipper. He will be in soon—the next five minutes, unless he's changed his tardy habits. We've got a seating chart, and you will be on the last seat in the second row over from where you are now. Go ahead and move."

He picked up his stuff and mouthed, "See you later" as he made his way to back-room banishment.

Wendy seemed to prove the teacher right in suspecting that she—and the others—had forgotten everything, though in fact she was only puzzled by Dipper's showing up in Gravity Falls. It wasn't like him just to pop up like that—he always had, and stuck to, a plan, no matter what.

He wasn't in her next class, but Tambry was, and Wendy grabbed some time to talk to her.

"You're kidding," Tambry said. "He came, like, up from Oakland or wherever to go to school  _here?_  What, is he insane?"

"I know, right?" Wendy said. "He's all about getting into a high-ranking college, and his high school has to be ranked ahead of ours. I can't figure it."

"Girl, he's still got a crush on you," Tambry said, grinning.

"Well—that wouldn't be so bad, considering the crappy guys you have to choose from around here. I'm not including Robbie, by the way."

"Yeah, thanks. It's not like I ever see him unless we're on stage together. Lucky I learned piano, huh?"

And then they had to concentrate on math for a while.

At lunch time, she spotted Dipper in the cafeteria and went to sit with him. "So fill me in!" she said. "What are you and Mabes up to this winter? Man, I wish you could've come up over the break! There was a crisis, man! Power went down all over Gravity Falls for the last three days. I was hoping it'd stay off today, delay school, but it came back late last night. Nobody knows what happened. I bet you could've tracked it down."

"Oh, sure I could," Dipper said.

Wendy waited. Then she said, "Well, what about it? You and Mabes?"

He shrugged. "Same thing we always do, you know. Nothing has changed much."

She squinted. "Have you like shrunk? I swear you were lots taller last summer!"

"Just slouching." He straightened in his seat and did seem to grow to the height she remembered—these days almost equal to hers. "The bench is uncomfortable. You're looking good."

"Thanks," she said. "What are you shaving with? Your skin's so smooth!"

"Just the regular stuff," he said. "I don't have bumps like a lot of these guys, that's all."

It was true. His skin was clear of acne—as smooth as it had been the first year she'd met him. "Wanna hang after school?" she asked.

"Oh, sure."

"I guess you're staying in the Shack, huh?" Wendy asked.

"Staying where I always stay," he agreed.

They talked a little more, but Wendy's uneasiness steadily grew. When she got a chance between her next-to-last and last class, Wendy called the Shack. Ford answered, mildly surprising her. "Hi," she said. "Wendy here. Listen, Dr. P, why didn't anyone tell me that Dipper was coming back to Gravity Falls?"

"He is?" Ford asked, sounding completely flummoxed. "When?"

"He's here in school," Wendy said. "He's got some junior classes, some senior ones, I guess. He just turned up this morning."

"Let . . . me do some checking. What time is school out?"

"Three-thirty."

"All right, nearly another hour. That should give me time."

She hunted around after her last class to find Dipper—not terribly hard, because the student body wasn't that numerous. "Hey, Dip!" she said, bundling herself in her heaviest coat—it was like fifteen degrees out—and carrying her backpack by the strap. "Wanna ride home? I got my car in the lot."

"That's great," he said. He headed for the door.

"Whoa, dude!" Wendy said. "Aren't you forgetting something? Where's your coat?"

"My coat? Oh, I did forget," Dipper said.

"In your locker, I guess?" Wendy asked.

"In my locker. Yes."

"Better go get it. You don't want to freeze solid."

"I'll be right back."

He walked off, but didn't head toward the hall with the lockers. Instead, he turned toward the boys' room and came back in a minute wearing a heavy jacket identical to hers. "Nice style choice," she said.

"Thanks."

The eager seniors had already mostly cleared out the parking lot. Wendy said, "Let me toss this in the trunk and then I'll unlock the car for you."

The bitter breeze chilled her as she unlocked and opened the trunk. "Hey, Dip, come and help with this," she said.

"Help with what?"

He came around the corner of the car.

Wendy drew back her axe. "Did you escape from your tube during the blackout?" she snarled.

"What? Wendy, what do you mean—?"

"Freeze!" Ford's voice. He held that rifle-like thing he had toted during Weirdmageddon, not that it had helped, and he was aiming at Dipper.

"Yeah, Ford, it's the Shapeshifter!" Wendy yelled. "I figured it out!"

With a snarl, Dipper altered, became an identical copy of Wendy, down to the axe—

But Wendy was ready and swung first. The axe bit into the creature's throat, and green goo sprayed out. It staggered, wounded but not killed—you probably couldn't kill it with an axe.

A quantum destabilizer, though—that was something different, as Ford demonstrated.

All that it left of the Shapeshifter was a smoldering little patch on the pavement. "Thanks, man," Wendy said.

"You're welcome," Ford said.

"You want to check to make sure it's me?" she asked.

"No need. If that had been the real you, it wouldn't have disintegrated, but would have burst into a thousand bloody fragments."

"Whoa! Glad you didn't make the mistake!"

Ford shook his head. "In a way, I hated to do that. I was present when the Shapeshifter first hatched out. I tried to care for it, but—well, on its homeworld, it's an apex predator, and I should have suspected that." He sighed. "I kept meaning to destroy it, but it seemed harmless, frozen at minus fifty Celsius. Of course I should have anticipated an eventual power failure, but I have a bad habit of putting things off."

"Me, too, Dr. P," she admitted.

But the next Saturday, Dipper Pines—the real Dipper—heard the doorbell ring at about eleven and opened it to see—"Wendy!" He was so overjoyed that he not only hugged her, but kissed her.

"Slow down," she said, laughing. "Glad to see you too, Dip! How's Mabes?"

"Mabel? She's off at the mall this morning, probably be back for lunch. You look so good!"

"Your mom and dad home?"

"Uh, no, grocery shopping day. They'll be back in an hour or so."

"Good," Wendy said, closing the door behind her. "You and me have some unfinished business, Dip. That's why I drove all the way down."

He swallowed hard. "I—think my dreams may be coming true," he croaked.

"Maybe. Let's go to your room, OK?"

"Uh, my, my uh, bed—bedroom?" he asked suavely.

"Yeah. You got a desk and a computer, right?"

"Right. Right, I have. Uh, why?"

She held up a sheaf of papers. "'Cause I got this college application to do, man! And I need your help with it."

* * *

_The End_


	2. Just My Luck

**Just My Luck**

_(Not part of my normal continuity and written for the Wendip Week 2018 prompt "Typical Pines Luck")_

* * *

Before the Mystery Twins had been in Gravity Falls for more than the first three days of June 2015, Mabel had found a new boyfriend.

"A  _fawn?_ " Dipper asked. "Seriously? You're going with a baby deer?"

"No, silly!" Mabel, who was preening at the mirror, said. "F-a-U-n! As in part hunky boy, part goat!" She narrowed her eyes and whispered confidentially, "He doesn't wear pants!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dipper said. "T.M.I! And also, no. No, you cannot date this guy, thing, whatever it is—"

"He's a faun," Mabel insisted. "And his name is Raymond."

"I don't care if he's a—Raymond?  _Raymond_  is a faun's name?"

"Yup," Mabel said, changing her earrings. "He's got the cutest little hoofs, and a twitchy little tail, and these two little curly horns."

"Yeah," Dipper said grimly. "I've read in mythology that fauns were always horny! Look, you know this guy's just gonna dump you for another girl. Or maybe another goat. Take my advice and give Raymond a wide berth!"

"You're not gonna spoil this for me, Dipper!" she said. She'd settled on earrings in the shape of little gold pine trees. "Anyway, we're just going to frisk in the meadow for a while. You can come along if you want. Hey, you could do the—"

"Don't even say it! I am not doing the 'Lamby Lamby' dance. Especially for a guy whose mom may have been one!"

Dipper told Wendy, whose response was, "Mabes can take care of herself, Dip. Besides, I give the relationship two days, tops. Just wait until they have a meal together!"

He had to chuckle. "Yeah, heh. I guess a faun would be pretty disgusting to watch eat."

"Um, right," Wendy said. "The faun . . . ri-i-ight."

Next he told Ford, who said, "That's interesting. The fauns rarely come down from the tablelands below the western cliffs. I'll have to ask her to collect a hair sample for DNA analysis."

And the last resort was Grunkle Stan, who shrugged. "Meh, she'll find out soon enough the guy don't have any money, and that'll be the end of that."

When Dipper collapsed groaning into a chair, his Grunkle gave him a sharp look. "What's the matter, kid? Scared a goat-guy's gonna elope with your sis?"

"Noooo," Dipper moaned, drawing it out. "It's just that—we've been here practically no time, and she's got a date already! I asked Wendy if she might want to go see a movie with me, and she told me, 'Wait until you're old enough to drive, and then we'll talk.'"

"So, ask somebody else," Stan suggested. "Plenty of seafood in the ocean, kid!"

"Wouldn't do any good," Dipper said. "I have terrible luck with girls."

"Give me a fr'instance," Stan said. "Maybe I can help."

"Aw," Dipper said, "there was this girl, Francine, at one of the school dances, and she wasn't dancing with anybody, so I walked over, got my nerve up, and asked if she wanted to dance. She said yes."

"See, you were in luck!"

"No, because when we walked out onto the floor, she stepped into a little pool of spilled punch and her heel skidded and she sprained her ankle! Just my luck!"

"Don't sound like hers was any too good, either," Stan said. "Come on, Dipper, that was one time!"

"Another time," Dipper said, "Mabel talked this girl, Ellen, into being open if I asked her on a date. I asked her to a movie for that coming weekend, and she said yes."

"Luck turned around, see?"

"No, it did not," Dipper said. "Because the movie was on Saturday, and on Friday her dad moved the whole family away. Turns out he was in witness protection, and somebody in the family let their real last name slip."

Stan's eyes narrowed. "Realllllly? Uh, what was the name?"

"Farghandahler," Dipper said.

"Never heard of 'em. Well, it was worth a shot," Stan said. "Kid, it sounds to me that you need a good-luck charm."

"Oh, come on," Dipper said. "I don't believe in horseshoes and rabbits' feet and all!"

"Got a point there," Stan conceded. "Horseshoes were invented so hicks could beat city folks at a stupid tossing game. And if a rabbit's foot brought luck, you wouldn't be able to buy any, 'cause every rabbit's got four of 'em! Nah, I'm thinkin' along the lines of an amulet. They really work. Sometimes."

Dipper remembered Gideon's amulet of telekinesis, which did seem to work. "Worth a shot," he mumbled.

"Come with me."

Grunkle Stan led him to the stock room. Though Soos was Mr. Mystery these days, and Melody was engaged to become Mrs. Mystery soon, Stan still kept a close eye on what the Shack offered. He fiddled around in a box and then came up with something shiny. "Aha! Knew we had half a dozen of these. OK, kid, I'm gonna make you a gift of the world's most powerful good-luck charm. It comes all the way from Niue!"

"Where . . . is that?" Dipper asked. He'd never heard of it.

"Ah, somewheres near Metuchen, I think. Anywhoo, this here is a five-dollar silver piece. No kiddin', real silver, so take care of it! Look at it. See these little insets? This here is a genuine four-leaf clover from County Cork, Ireland, blessed by a priest who's also a part-time leprechaun! And this is a miniature horseshoe, actually manufactured from a real shoe once worn by Man O'War, the luckiest horse that ever ran in the Derby! This is, uh, a preserved ladybug. Not killed, it died of old age, ya understand. Ladybugs are notoriously lucky!"

"What?" Dipper asked.

"C'mon, Dip, ya never heard of one's house actually burnin' down! And last this is a little figure of a lucky elephant. With all them on your side, your luck will turn right around! You'll see! If it don't work, double your money back."

"How . . . much are you charging me?" Dipper asked.

"Nothin'! It's a free gift! Take it before I change my mind. I could sell this dealy to a sucker for fifty bucks!"

Oh, well. The silver disk had been pierced for a thong, and Stan threw a rawhide one in for free. "Word of caution," he said. "The gals go nuts for a guy who wears a thong! Don't get yourself in trouble, kid—or them, either."

Dipper put the rawhide cord around his neck. What the heck, it would either work or it wouldn't.

And Gideon really had almost cut out his tongue with lamb shears that one time.

* * *

Strangely, that night Dipper had a vivid dream of a tourist couple parking in the Mystery Shack lot. They had a cute daughter about fourteen and a little baby not more than a year old. The weird thing was that they pulled their Grand Rover van into a slot, the dad and mom and daughter got out, and they turned to take a photo of the Shack and the totem pole—and the van rolled away backwards, because the dad had evidently not put it in Park. The mom screamed as the van rolled over the edge of the hill and then fell and rolled over and over down to the forest edge, where it collided hard with a tree.

And the baby was inside.

The next morning, while chatting with Wendy at the sales desk, Dipper glanced out the window and saw a maroon Grand Rover van—exactly like the one he'd dreamed of—just pulling into the lot. "Be right back," he said to Wendy and dashed outside.

He felt creeps all over his skin—the van was parking in the exact spot that he'd dreamed of. He sprinted across the lawn and leaped over the low fence just as the mom, dad, and teen daughter got out and the dad hefted a camera. The van started to roll. Dipper leaped into the driver's seat—the dad hadn't closed the door—and jammed on the brakes, while pulling on the emergency brake handle. The mom screamed.

The dad came running up, white-faced. "What happened?"

Dipper said, "It's OK, sir. I saw the van start rolling. I think you didn't put it in Park."

The mom opened the rear door and took the baby—a cheerful little one-year-old boy who had no idea he'd been in any peril—out of his baby seat. "He's OK," she said. "Bless you!"

The father was reaching for his wallet. "How much can it—"

"No, sir," Dipper said. "Just—I don't know, pay it forward. Help out somebody who's in trouble. And enjoy the Mystery Shack!"

The dad got behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled the car back into the parking slot. He very carefully put it in Park and set the emergency brake.

Someone tapped on Dipper's shoulder. "You can take this, anyway," the teen girl—braids, freckles, really cute—said. And she hugged him and kissed him on the mouth. "Thanks for saving my baby brother!"

Dipper realized he had an audience. Wendy and Stan had come out on the porch. "Uh, you're welcome," Dipper said.

The girl took his hand and wrote something on his palm. "My email," she said. "Get in touch with me. My name's Laramie."

"O-OK," Dipper said.

He walked back to the Shack, where Grunkle Stan clapped him on the shoulder. "Lucky you spotted that!" he said. "Saved us from losin' some customers!"

Wendy, settling back behind the counter, asked, "You know that girl, Dipper?"

"Uh, no," he said. "Just saw their van start to roll and she was, I guess grateful or some deal."

"You mean this isn't gonna be a regular thing?"

"Gosh, no! They're probably from Canada or someplace. I'll never see her again."

Wendy grinned. "Just teasing, man. Good going."

Later that afternoon, because he really couldn't think of an excuse, he went with Mabel to meet Raymond. Raymond waited for Mabel in the bonfire clearing. He seemed skittish when he saw she was not alone, but then she introduced Dipper as her twin. "I'm Alpha, though," she confided.

Well, Raymond wasn't quite what Dipper had expected. True, he had curly little horns and a crown of curly black hair. True, his ears were pointed, and his eyes had strangely slit-like pupils. And he definitely had hoofs and a strange ankle joint. However, the fur on his legs and waist and, um, that general area, was six inches long, very fluffy and shaggy, and he might as well have been wearing pants.

And he talked normal. No baaas or godawful puns, no "I'm Mr. Satyr day night" or anything like that. He seemed interested that Mabel had a brother. He wanted to know where they were from, what Dipper liked to do, why they had come to the Falls, did they like the forest, would he like to see some secluded beautiful areas, and so on.

Mabel looked increasingly uncomfortable and finally reminded Raymond, "You were gonna show me that beautiful forest pool with a cascading creek leading into it. Dipper doesn't have time, sorry." And she led him off.

In about an hour she was back, looking mad. "You win," she said. "I broke up with Raymond. I hope you're happy!"

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Dipper said.

"Yes, you did! Raymond asked me if you were attached. He wants to date  _you_! Lucky!"

"Tell him I'm not into guys or goats. And especially not into guy-goat combos!" Dipper said. He was beginning to think that luck had its downside.

But he tested it. The next day he asked Wendy if she'd like to go see that movie on Friday night. "I'm still not old enough to drive," he said. "But I don't mind being driven."

She grinned. "OK, Dip, just this movie. But it's no big deal, understand? Just two friends going to see a three-D earthquake movie!"

"I understand," he said. "Just friends."

But the next day Candy came over to visit Mabel and wound up telling Dipper he was really growing up to be a handsome guy, and she sat uncomfortably close to him. And a little later he went outside just to get away from her and found a wallet on the ground. He opened it and saw a drivers' license, the picture looking familiar—oh, yeah, a guy who'd gone out on the tour with a bunch of others. And speak of the devil, Soos came driving the tram back just then, and the very guy jumped off, looking anxious, and headed for his car, which he opened and checked—

"Excuse me, sir," Dipper said. "I just found this wallet. Is it yours?"

"Yes!" the guy said, looking relieved. "I must have dropped it while going out to the tram."

Dipper handed it over. "You might want to check to make sure everything's there."

The man did. "Yep, all the cards, all the money. Here you go, son." He held out a twenty.

Dipper shook his head. "I didn't want a reward, sir. My great-uncle co-owns this place, and he'd never want to make money from someone's misfortune." That was true, sort of. Of course, Stan didn't mind a bit if he made money from them any other way.

But the guy asked his name, went inside, and evidently praised him to Soos and Wendy, because they both gave him thumbs-up when he came back in. And Candy hugged him. "My Dipper is an honest and truthful man!" she announced.

Wendy raised an eyebrow at "my Dipper."

Still later, downtown at a convenience store, Dipper fed a dollar into a vending machine and bought the first and only scratch-off lottery ticket in his life so far. Back in the Shack, he scratched it off.

Yeah, it figured. He'd won $1,000.00. There was, of course, a catch. He gave the card to Stan. "I can't use it," he told his Grunkle. "You have to be eighteen or over."

"I'm eighteen or over," Stan pointed out. "I'll do somethin' nice for ya, kid." And he did. He went into town to cash in the ticket and brought Dipper back a candy bar.

That night, Dipper complained to Mabel about the amulet. "It's making me lucky," he said, "but not in any way that helps me out. And it's got you mad at me."

"I'm not mad," Mabel said. "Just disappointed that Raymond prefers you to me. That's not your fault. My irresistibility must've rubbed off on you a little." She picked up the candy bar. "You gonna eat this?"

"Don't like coconut. You can have it."

"Thanks, Brobro!"

Mabel bit into the candy bar and chipped a tooth. Fragment of coconut husk. Stan had to rush her to a dentist he knew who owed him a favor. She came back with a repaired tooth and a rueful, "You're lucky you didn't want the candy, Dipper!"

But it didn't work with Wendy. The next morning, she said, "I gotta break our date, Dip. Sorry, man. My dad wants me to go with him and my brothers to visit my aunt this evening."

And without Wendy—meh. The kind of luck he was having just wasn't worth it. After some soul-searching, Dipper walked out to the Bottomless Pit and walked back a little lighter and amulet-free.

Wendy apologized again—but then the phone rang, and she answered it. "What? Oh, OK. No, tomorrow's even better. Sure. OK if I see a movie, then? Thanks, Dad!"

She hung up the phone. "Huh. My aunt called Dad and asked him to put off the visit, so our date's back on, unless you got someone else to see it with."

"No!" Dipper said. "Uh, no. No, I don't. Uh. If you want to go."

"Yeah, I guess so," Wendy said. "Guess you're in luck, Dipper."

Yeah, for a change, he guessed he really was in the best kind of luck. Seeing a three-D movie about an earthquake sitting next to a gorgeous redhead who made a practice of not dating anybody under the age of sixteen? But she would make one exception?

Hmm, maybe he shouldn't have tossed that amulet away so quickly . . . .

Nah. Typical Pines luck was better than anything it could dish up!

* * *

_The End_


	3. Fight It Out

**Fight It Out**

**(This is not part of my normal continuity but was written for the Wendip Week prompt "Combat")**

* * *

_One day in the summer of 2015—_

"It's not looking good," Dipper said grimly.

GI Guy and his team must have been captured by M.A.M.B.A. From where he and Mabel crouched behind the shelter of some ABC blocks, Dipper could see as far as the derailed scale-model train and the scattered circus animals. All of them were down. No movement of any kind, friend or foe—at least that was something. "Mabel," he said, "I wish you wouldn't fool around with magic spells you don't understand."

"But it looked like fun!" Mabel complained. Loudly.

"Shh! I hope Wendy's OK."

"But it looked like fun!" Mabel complained. In a whisper.

It grew out of her taking a babysitting job for Kindly Old Man Stuart, who had a raft of grandchildren, including two who were only a couple of years younger than Dipper and Mabel. Dipper remembered them from the first Fishing Opener the Mystery Twins had attended—when Old Man Stuart and Grunkle Stan had sort of become bitter enemies, Stan said, because Dipper and Mabel didn't demonstrate enough wuv. Dipper wasn't sure what that meant.

He  _was_  sure that Mabel shouldn't have read the incantation that made Betty and Benny's toys come to life. Or used the shrink ray so she and Dipper could join in the fun. As for Betty and Benny, they were four and six, and they were taking naps. Maybe. It had been some time. Dipper was hoping they hadn't woken up. Having a couple of little kids come into their trashed playroom would put the cherry on top of a rotten afternoon. Especially if the little mon—darlings saw their toys were running around fighting each other and decided to join in.

Worse, they might find the shrink ray, though it was on a low table near the bookshelf. No telling what could happen if the kids got small. Or gigantic.

"OK, where are we?" Dipper asked. "I'm gonna climb up on B-C to see if I can spot Wendy or any of the G.I. Guy patrol."

" _You'll_  be spotted!" Mabel warned. "I'll go. I'm like a ninja of stealth!" And before Dipper could stop her, she yelled, "Ninja!" and fired her grappling hook. She zipped up to the top of the oversized building block—Dipper estimated that he and she were only two inches tall—and plopped up onto the top.

"OK, Brobro," she said in a loud whisper, "I can see all the way to the toybox. There seems to be a ruckus over in the prehistoric section—there's a plastic pterodactyl swooping around. The military section looks trashed."

"It did when we came in!" Dipper growled. "Any sign of Wendy?"

"Mm . . . nope. But there's some movement over in the tea party section. I think the bad guys are rounding up the dollies! The fiends!"

"Which way to the table with the shrink ray?" Dipper called up. "Wait, what, did you use the word 'fiends'?"

"The room's so big—we passed the little model ranch, didn't we?"

"Yeah, I remember the corral."

"OK, it must be that way. See me pointing?"

"I see you! Get down before somebody sees you!"

"Uh-oh. Too late. Here comes a tank!"

Mabel rappelled down the block and yanked the grapple back onto the grappling-hook pistol, and they ran for it.

Not that either was a coward, but the magic spell that brought the toys to life also made their weapons real enough to kill. "What did you see?"

"Some of those red guys!"

Dipper groaned. "The Cardinal Kraits! They're like M.A.M.B.A. Commander's elite guard!"

"Did you collect them when you were little?"

"Couldn't ever afford them! But I saw the commercials! Quick, in there—"

They dashed into a plastic bunkhouse. Four plastic cowpokes sat at a plastic table playing a game of plastic cards. One looked up. "Well, howdy, little buckaroos!"

"Howdy," Dipper said. "Also, help! Some soldiers in red are looking for us."

"They bad hombres?" one of the others asked. All the cowpoke figures were identical.

"Ooh, the baddest, hombre-ist guys you ever saw!" Mabel shot back.

"Boys," a third one said, "reckon we got some fightin' to do."

They all stood and moseyed out. "Let's go," Dipper said, and he and Mabel ducked out the door as soon as the cowboys had gone. "Maybe they'll slow them down."

"Maybe they'll defeat them!"

"Not a chance. The Kraits are individualized."

Gunfire broke out behind them, and they heard one of the cowboys yell, "This here was a mistake!"

"See?" Dipper said. They had entered a winding canyon of overturned tea cups, scattered doll clothes, and toy musical instruments. As they rounded the corner of a ukulele, they screeched to a halt.

Because in front of them loomed the menacing figure of a soldier wearing a blue uniform, red-lined cape, and a helmet with a reflective faceplate. And he was four times their size. "Stop!" he shouted, in a voice like thunder. "You have been captured!"

Mabel put her hands over her ears. "Ow! You don't have to shout!"

"I shout! At everything! All the time!" the figure yelled.

"He does," Dipper told Mabel.

"Yes! It's what! I do!"

"It's his thing," advised one of the six red-suited troopers who supported him. The leader took out a pistol and shot him. "Insubordination!" he yelled as the plastic figure dropped to the floor, apparently dead.

"Look, man, we're not your enemies," Dipper said. "We're not G.I. Guy's soldiers—"

"That! Is immaterial!" The leader clenched a fist and raised it in victory. "We! Will control! The world of the playroom!" Then he lowered the pistol, aiming it at them. "Prepare to die!"

"Uh, can I have a week to get my affairs in order?" Mabel asked.

"No!"

"Two days?"

"Say goodbye!" The pistol steadied—

And the M.A.M.B.A. Commander shrieked as a whirling axe flew spinning and with a crunch disarmed him. And I mean that literally. The whole arm, off at the shoulder.

"Let my friends alone!"

"Wendy!" Dipper shouted. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Yeah," Wendy said. "Meet my little friend." She rose in the air, higher and higher.

Because she was astride the neck of a two-foot tall model of a tyrannosaur.

The M.A.M.B.A. leader clutched his shoulder. "Bring! It! Down!" he shouted to his men.

The battle was fierce but futile. Eight-inch warriors have little chance against a two-foot-tall dinosaur. Wendy leaped down from its neck after the carnage was over and retrieved her axe. "Thanks, Toothy," she said. "Go and let the G.I. Guys out of the castle." The tyrannosaur rumbled and turned to stalk away.

"M.A.M.B.A. has a castle?" Dipper asked.

Wendy kissed him. "Nope, they commandeered Cinderella's. She's kinda pissed."

"Are they dead?" Mabel asked, staring at the scattered remains of M.A.M.B.A. Commander and his men.

"Look pretty dead to me," Wendy said. "Let's get outa here. We need the flashlight, right?"

They reached the table, Mabel used the grappling hook, and they all climbed up—Dipper last of all, and it took him some time. Wendy reached down and hoisted him up. "Now how does this work?"

"We have to rotate the crystal," Dipper said. With all three pushing and tugging, they did.

"Now we have to enlarge ourselves again. But I think this table will collapse."

"Dude, get to the edge of the table. When you start enlarging, jump for it."

"OK."

Dipper took his seat and gulped. When you're two inches tall, twenty-eight inches is a long way down. But then Mabel turned on the flashlight, the beam hit him, and as he started to grow, he slipped to the very edge. He dropped when he was about half his normal size. Then he could stretch up and reach the flashlight. He took it down—it felt heavy—and finally he helped the tiny Wendy and Mabel and set them on the floor before growing them back to normal size.

"Now do me," he said, handing the flashlight to Wendy.

She smiled down at him. "I dunno, dude. You're incredibly cute like that. Like a stuffed toy. I could, like, sneak you into the house and put you on my bed and tonight—"

"Do it!" Mabel said, chortling in an evil way.

"Nah, just messin' with you man." She enlarged Dipper all the way and then some, until he was an inch or two taller than she was. "Just seein' what you'll look like at twenty," she said. "Not bad."

Drunk with size and relief, Dipper grabbed, her, dipped her, and kissed her.

"Woohoo!" Mabel cheered. "But seriously, guys—guys? We gotta end this spell. I see King Kong climbing Cinderella's castle over there in the far corner. Guys! Knock it off! Don't! Make! Me! SHOUT!"

They reluctantly stopped kissing and adjusted Dipper's height, he found the spell book and ended the enchantment, and Mabel went to see if their baby-sitting charges were still asleep. "Man," Wendy said, her arm around Dipper's shoulders, "that was intense!"

"I hope these kids won't mind that so many of their toys are broken," Dipper said.

"Nah," Wendy told him. "That happens all the time. They'll blame each other, and their grampa will buy them new junk. You know, you look pretty hot when you're tall."

Dipper blushed. "Don't think I haven't thought about—something like that."

"Plus, you looked real cuddly when you were like half sized. No kidding, man. I wouldn't mind having you in my bed."

His blush became as scarlet as the uniforms of the Cardinal Kraits. "Really? Uh, which size do you mean?"

Wendy pulled him closer. "Hmm," she whispered, her breath warm on his lips. "Let me think about that."

* * *

_The End_


	4. Wendy Said Yes!

**Wendy Said Yes!**

**(This is not part of my usual continuity, but was written for Wendip Week 2018 following the prompt "Date Night")**

* * *

**An entry from the Journals of Dipper Pines, written in the summer of 2015:**

_Wednesday evening_ : Oh, my gosh! I'm hyperventilating. Mabel is out on the roof shooting off fireworks. She won a bet from Grunkle Stan that she could persuade me to ask Wendy out on a real date.

And she did.

_And I did._

Wendy said yes!

Oh, my gosh.

Saturday night. This is Wednesday, nearly ten PM. The rest of tonight, and then two more nights from now. There's a dance at the teen center. We're going to The Club for dinner first. I've saved up all the money I've made at the Shack so far this summer, and I think there's enough for a meal there, plus a tip, plus the tickets to the dance. Then I'll be broke, but still—

Oh, my gosh.

My clothes! I've got to have some good clothes! Grunkle Stan says a sports jacket, tie, and good shoes, and I don't have any of those! Or a shirt I could wear with a tie! But when he told me that just after Wendy went home, I explained my problem, not having enough money to buy all that and pay for the date, too, and he said not to worry, to see me in decent clothes for once, he'll buy me the outfit, including the sports jacket. Mabel told me she'd pick out the styles and colors. But Melody gently said she'd do that instead. She's shopping online for the local mall stores that sell such gear.

Maybe this time, without Mabel's help, I mean, I'll look like, you know, a normal teen boy instead of an apprentice circus clown. Mabel has a certain taste in clothing, but—she's Mabel!

I told Melody I'd appreciate her help, and my sister got grumpy, but I conceded her one point. She gets to design and hand-paint a tie, which she'll do tomorrow. She's thinking a pictorial representation of Bipper, because she said when Bill Cipher possessed my body he made me look like a hot bad boy, but I'm going to veto that idea. I'll probably still wind up with yellow triangles on an ugly purple tie, but—

But that's not the least of my worries. Between tonight and Saturday evening, I have to learn how to dance! I  _can't_ just do the Lamby Lamby dance! I don't care if Wendy thinks it's cute, the other people would stare at me and I think I'd die right there on the dance floor.

Mabel says she'll teach me four basic steps for contemporary fast dances, and Melody has offered to teach me how to waltz and fox-trot, which she says will do for any slow dances, and with those six different steps, I can fake my way through fast or slow dances.

Slow dances! I'd have my arms around Wendy! Oh, my gosh.

I mean, I'm fifteen years old! And Wendy's eighteen and everybody at the dance is going to be staring at us already and laughing behind our backs and talking about us because she's so cool and I'm so  _not_ , and she's tall and I'm not so tall, and I'm sure she's a great dancer, and I'm so—so lame.

Maybe I'd better just call it off.

No, I can't do that. I'd hate myself forever.

But if I screw everything up, I'll hate myself even more and I'll probably—

Maybe I can jump into he Bottomless Pit over and over until I stop coming out again, I don't know. Because I know me. Somehow I'm bound to screw it up. And even if Wendy forgave me, I couldn't forgive me. Ack, I can't breathe.

But no matter how it turns out—oh, my gosh!

How did it even happen?

This afternoon, I got my nerve up and went right up to Wendy. I leaned casually on the counter and said right out loud, "Since we've been through so many things, Wendy, I was thinking maybe we could go out. Not seriously. But together. Just, uh, just for one time. I mean, just as friends. To, um, the dance on Saturday. But you have a date already, probably, so, bad idea, sorry, my bad—"

"No, I don't," she said, not looking up from her  _Teen Fuzz_  magazine (she was behind the counter in the gift shop, leaning back in her chair, her long beautiful legs propped up on the counter). "I'm between boyfriends, dude. And I got nothing else to do Saturday night, so yeah, I guess."

I couldn't believe my ears. I mean, I literally didn't believe she said what she said. "Oh, well, maybe next time," I heard myself say.

With a little irritable line between her eyebrows, but still not looking at me, Wendy said, "Dude, you got something in your ears? I said I'd go to the dance."

I stood there opening and closing my mouth, and then I said, "Wendy, I just want to be, you know, clear on this, OK? I asked you to go to the dance Saturday night, and you said, um—what did you say?"

She glanced at me with a kind of exasperated grin. "I said _yes_ , dork! We'll go as friends, like you said. Might be fun."

"Uh, and dinner first?" I asked. My voice started squeaking. I thought it had stopped doing that when I was thirteen. I cleared my throat. "Um, dinner first? At The Club?"

"Ooh, fancy," Wendy said, arching her eyebrows, her beautiful green eyes twinkling. "Yeah, sounds good. You got a car, man?"

I wilted. She  _knows_  I don't. There it was, right there, the deal-breaker. She told me she might date me when I'm old enough to drive. Feeling the rejection coming, I mumbled, "No, I—Wendy, you know I don't. I just have my learner's permit. I couldn't drive a car if I had one."

She gave me a sympathetic sort of smile. "Hey, don't look like I just hit you with my axe. I was teasing. No sweat, man. It's OK, I'll drive."

I still couldn't get my head around what was happening. "Um. OK. In other words—we have—we—you and me, I mean—I want to make sure, now—you're saying that—"

She put down the magazine. I couldn't tell if she was mad or just wanted to end the conversation. "I'm saying it's a date, man! Haven't you ever dated a girl before?"

I couldn't talk. I couldn't even look at her. I stared at my toes. A big lump throbbed in my throat. I kept telling myself,  _Don't start crying!_  But I felt like that time in fourth grade when I didn't get a single Valentine card. How could I tell her what a failure I've been with girls?

But I think she understood. In a gentle voice, she said, "Oh, Dipper. I'm so sorry, dude! I wasn't being mean, I just didn't  _know_. I mean, you're fifteen, I thought—OK, relax. This is your first time, that's cool. Everybody has one. It's all right, man. We're gonna have a friendly date, and it's gonna be fun. And really, I don't mind driving."

"Thank you," I finally said. I know my voice sounded small and humble, but that's exactly the way I felt.

Grunkle Stan and Mabel were hiding in the Museum, eavesdropping from out of sight behind the doorway. "That's five bucks you owe me!" I heard Mabel yell. "Plus another twenty 'cause she said yes!"

"Jeeze Louise," Grunkle Stan grumbled. "That's steep! How's about the five in cash and the rest in fireworks?"

"It's a deal! Put your skyrockets where your mouth is!"

And that's why right now, a few hours after all that, Mabel's shooting off rockets outside. I can see their red and green and gold flashes coming through the triangular window. I can hear the shrieks and booms.

But they don't seem festive to me because now I realize I've really landed myself in trouble.

I've got two days to learn how to do something besides the Lamby Lamby dance. I hope I'm not too clumsy. Mabel swears she and Melody will whip me into shape. If I don't step all over my own stupid feet. Or Wendy's! Oh, man.

Grunkle Stan's taking me to the mall to buy the clothes Melody suggested for me tomorrow. I've hardly ever worn a suit and tie, just for my Bar Mitzvah that Gramma insisted on my having and then another time, well, sort of, when I played Mr. Mystery, and that one time when Bill Cipher got my body into the Reverend's costume for Mabel's puppet play.

But in a sports jacket and white shirt and regular black leather shoes, plus whatever ugly tie Mabel whips up, I'll look like such a dork.

And before Saturday, I have to look at The Club's menu online and plan out what I can order and stay within my budget. I'll assume Wendy will want a high-priced meal, so I'll look for something cheaper for me to balance hers out. Oh and I'll have to find out online how to pronounce the names of any French dishes. Or I guess I could just point at the menu. But I don't want to have to do that, because Wendy might laugh at me—

Oh, my gosh.

What have I got myself into?

Oh, my gosh!

* * *

_Late Saturday night:_

I haven't written anything since Wednesday. Now it's late.

I'm back from the date.

It was—I don't know! Wendy was—I don't  _remember_ , except she's beautiful! My dancing—I can't even recall it, except she felt so warm in my arms! I don't think I stepped on her toes. I can't  _remember!_

My mind's a blank.

Because Wendy just dropped me off outside the Shack.

She smiled under the porch light and said, "I had a good time, Dip. Let's do this again."

I  _think_  I squeaked "Sure!"

But I don't remember! Not  _anything_  before the next moment!

Because then Wendy grabbed my jacket and pulled me close against her, and—

Oh, my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!

_WENDY KISSED ME!_

* * *

_The End_


	5. All Aboard the Flirt Train!

**All Aboard the Flirt Train!**

**(This is not part of my regular continuity, but a story written for Wendip Week 2018 for Prompt 5: Flirting)**

* * *

Ever since he had turned sixteen, Dipper had felt different. He could drive—when Mom and Dad let him borrow one of their cars for an hour or so. He had asked Wendy out to three whole dates the previous summer, and she'd accepted every time. So as the summer of 2016 began, he was fired up for . . . adventures in Gravity Falls! With his favorite redhead.

And when Mabel gave a sleepover alert for their first weekend in the Falls that summer of 2016, and when it turned out that Pacifica was out of town with her parents, Grenda was off in Austria for a week, and Candy was at band camp for two weeks, Wendy was the only one who responded.

"Not good," Mabel pronounced that afternoon.

"Sure, it's good," Dipper said. "You two are buddies. Like big sister and little sister."

"Augghh!" Mabel yelled, waving her arms and doing a good vocal impression of Charlie Brown missing that football again. "You can't play any of the good sleepover games with just two! Gotta be a minimum of three! So, I guess it's gonna be really boring for Wendy." She paused and then in a sly tone, she added, "Unless . . . "

* * *

OK, Dipper told himself, it would be awkward but not  _that_  awkward. Mabel would sleep, if she slept at all, in her old bed in the attic. Wendy would sleep in Dipper's bed.

 _Yep, right . . . in my bed_.

And Dipper would sleep on the floor. On an air mattress. In his sleeping bag. At the foot of his bed, not in it.

_Knowing Mabel, and knowing this is the first sleepover of the summer, we probably won't even get to bed, anyway. The first and last ones are all-nighters._

Dipper assured himself it would be all right. That morning Wendy brought an overnight bag to work, and that evening the three went up to the attic bedroom. They got into sleepwear—Wendy modestly chose green pajamas, Mabel wore her old sleep shirt plus shorts under them, and Dipper wore a t-shirt and shorts that came down to his knees, nothing racy.

And then Mabel said they first had to gossip—not a life skill Dipper had developed. But he sat mostly silent listening to Mabel and Wendy dish the dirt on Pacifica, teachers from both of their schools, Tad Strange (very bland gossip), and a few others.

"Come on, Dipper!" Mabel said at one point. "Hold up your end of the conversation!"

"I never talk to anybody or find out any of these things," Dipper pointed out. "I'd have to make up gossip. Like 'The mailman is a werewolf.'"

"No, he's not," Mabel said, laughing. "He told me he suffers from hyperpilosity , that's all."

"I  _said_  I was making it up."

Wendy shook her head. "No good, dude. It has to have some fact in it to be gossip."

Next, Mabel broke out the trusty old Twister game. Now, Dipper couldn't  say that posing nearly wrapped around Wendy with one hand and one foot on red, one hand on yellow, and one foot on blue wasn't stimulating. It was less so, though, when Wendy, laughing, lost her balance and fell on him, smashing his face into the floor.

They dealt with the nosebleed for ten or fifteen minutes. Wendy kept apologizing, but Dipper said, "Wasn't your fault. It was the game. I'm OK, really."

Then there was M.A.S.H., the game of numbered lists under the headings Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House, plus some arcane business with a spiral line and counting, and Mabel announced the results: "Wendy, you're gonna live in a Shack, drive a tank, marry Jared Padalecki, and have four kids! Dipper, you're gonna live in an Apartment, drive a minibus, marry Melanie Martinez, and have one child!"

"Name it after me, dude," Wendy said.

"Only if it's a boy!" Mabel said, and she fell over backwards, hugging herself as she gave her high, gurgling laugh.

"This is a stupid game," Dipper complained. "Why can't we play 'Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?' Or the Duck-Tective version of 'Clue?'"

"Lame!" Wendy said. She didn't have the patience for board games.

"Truth or Dare!" Mabel said.

"Yeah, I'm up for it," agreed Wendy.

"I . . . think I'm leaving," Dipper said, getting to his feet.

Mabel lunged across the floor, tackling him at the ankles. His crash hurt even more than the bruised nose had. "Mabel! Seriously, quit it!"

"Come on, dude," Wendy said. "We'll go easy on you."

"Yeah, yeah," Mabel said. "Dip, you first—truth or dare?"

Looking at her fiendishly grinning face, Dipper sighed. "Dare, I guess."

Giggling, Mabel said, "Do the 'Lamby Lamby' dance!"

"I hate that!"

"It's a sacred dare! You gotta! Wait a minute!" Mabel dashed to her bed, hauled out a trunk from beneath it, and rummaged in it. She produced a white crocheted tam and gloves set, and she followed those with a wooly white sweater. "This'll be close enough! Costume, Broseph!"

She tugged the junk onto him. He sighed. "I hate this." But he sang the song and danced the dance, going down on one knee at the end. Mabel laughed so hard she was gagging.

But Wendy smiled and clapped. "Brings back memories, man. And Dip, you still make a darned cute lamb. You could follow me to school one day."

Wendy chose dare, too, and Mabel challenged her: "Flirt with my brother for five minutes!"

"Don't humiliate her," Dipper said. "Wendy, you don't have to—"

"It's cool, man. I won't embarrass you. Hey, dude, I love the way you're always trying to protect me."

He squirmed. "I know you don't need to be protected but I just don't want Mabel to embarrass you. Or me. And she always finds a way to do it."

Wendy hip-slid over to sit next to him. "But you're mature enough to let that roll off your back," she said.

"Like a duck off a log!" Mabel yelped.

Wendy reached out and gently touched Dipper's cheek. "Hey, hey, don't let it bother you like that. It's just flirting. It's not that bad. It doesn't hurt anything."

"Yeah, but it makes me all crazy," Dipper complained, huddling where he sat. "I mean, it's different for you, Wendy. You're the coolest person I've ever known, and you've got all the confidence in the world."

"You think so?" Wendy asked. "Let me tell you, I've got rotten judgment in guys. That's why I'm so glad you came back this summer. You're not like the guys I usually see. You never try to pressure me into anything. You're a true gentleman, Dipper."

He blushed. "Wendy I'm not—but if I seem that way, it's because being close to you makes me better than I really am. Better than I thought I ever could be. But that's you, not me. I'm a mess, and you're so fantastic—I wish I had your strength and your confidence. I wish I was one-tenth as hot as you are. Oops, I didn't mean to say that!"

"It's a compliment, Dip," Wendy said with a sweet smile. "Just like you to say something nice like that and get embarrassed. Man, it's kind, but please don't talk about me like that. I'm, like, a wreck! I wish I could be as loyal as you are, as willing to help anybody in trouble, as forgiving. I'm none of that. When you find a girl—"

"Time!" Mabel yelled. "That was some pretty good flirting, Wendy!"

Dipper blinked. "Wait, what? The game already started? I thought—oh." He sighed. "Not real. Like my made-up gossip."

Wendy touched his arm, rubbing her palm up and down as she caressed it. "Nope," she said. "That was one hundred per cent from the heart, man. Mabes didn't say the flirting had to be made up."

"You—were serious?" Dipper asked.

She kissed him on the lips. "Yep," she said in a whisper.

Mabel switched back to Dipper's turn without him noticing she hadn't taken her own turn yet. "Truth or Dare, Brobro?"

"Truth," he said.

Chuckling, Mabel said, "How many girls have you ever kissed?"

Dipper winced. "You mean on the lips?"

"On the  _whatever_!" Mabel said. "Come on, spill it!"

"Go on, Dip," Wendy said.

He squirmed. "Um. Let me count. There's my mom, on the cheek. There was that girl in fifth grade that Mabel promised a dollar to if she'd let me kiss her on the cheek."

"Oh, yeah, Anna," Mabel said. She glanced at Wendy. "She didn't get the dollar, 'cause at the last second she ran away screaming. I think she had to have therapy later."

Dipper was frowning as he did mental arithmetic. "I guess it's a total of . . . thirty-three, counting Mabel. Just a brother-sister kiss."

"Dude," Wendy said, "that's more impressive than I figured!"

"Wait, wait," Mabel objected, frowning. "Dipper, there is no WAY you've kissed that many girls!"

"It's true," Dipper said.

"Name them all!"

Dipper shrugged. "You, Mom, Anna . . . Wendy."

"That's  _four_!" Mabel said. "Boo, you liar!"

"I'm not lying," Dipper said, reaching for Wendy's hand. "Wendy's ten times better than each of the others, and three tens make thirty."

Wendy laughed. "Oh, Dip, that deserves another one!" And she kissed him again.

"I feel like I've been touched by an angel," Dipper said.

Mabel said, "Hang on, no fair! You weren't dared to flirt with Wendy!"

"Mabes," Wendy said, comfortably hugging Dipper and looking not at Mabel, but deeply into her twin's eyes, "we just started a whole different kind of game."

* * *

_The End_


	6. Got Your Back

**Got Your Back**

**(Not part of my usual continuity, this story was written for Wendip Week 2018, for the prompt "Moving in With Each Other")**

* * *

Mabel, her tongue stuck out, said, "Eww! You guys! Get a room, why don't you?"

"We got one," Dipper said. "Wendy's moving in with me."

" _What?_  Oh, that's great for you, but where will I sleep?" Mabel asked. OK, it was 2016, and as sixteen-year-olds, she and Dipper were really too old to be sharing a room, but then it was Gravity Falls, and what happens in Gravity Falls stays in the Bottomless Pit, as far as parents ever know.

"It's cool, Mabes," Wendy said. "You sleep in your own bed. Dipper and I will share his."

"Uhh. . . awkward! I . . . think I'll go sleep in the guest room," Mabel said. She chuckled in an evil way. "Wouldn't want to distract you crazy kids. You're so stuck on each other!"

"Mabel, no jokes," Dipper warned.

"OK, OK, I'll just get my stuff and clear out. You guys look really cute in bathrobes, by the way. Did you enjoy your shower?"

"Mabel!"

"Sheesh! I'm going already!" Mabel packed up a few necessities—three trips down and up and down the stairs—and then standing in the doorway, she said, "Well, I'll just leave you two alone, so you can get rid of the bathrobes, or whatever."

Wendy threw something at her. It was only a stuffed animal, and a giggling Mabel closed the door before it hit.

"Man," Dipper sighed. "How did we get into these messes?"

"You know, dude," Wendy said.

* * *

Yeah, he knew. They'd been exploring the crashed space ship, when Dipper had opened a hatch—evidently never previously opened—and they entered a cabin with a cryotube in it, like the one the Shapeshifter had been frozen in. In fact, Dipper suspected that the cryotube in Ford's bunker had been looted from here to begin with.

However, once they opened the door, the cryotube deactivated with a hiss, they felt a wave of heat, and then it opened, and a strange creature, three feet high with three short arms and three negligible legs and shaped sort of like an extremely obese bowling pin, waddled out. It looked up at the two of them and asked, "Zgrfmck nzzpl vmqms?" Well, at least it had a rising inflection and sounded like a question.

"We come in peace," Dipper said.

And the alien creature drew a ray gun and fired it. And divided into two. Which divided immediately and made four, then eight, then sixteen—

"Grunkle Ford!" Dipper said into his transmitter. "Are you seeing this?"

"Yes!" said Ford, who was watching everything from the comfort of his lab, while the GoBo camera that Dipper wore clipped to his cap caught it all. "These are very dangerous creatures—the Poppaparts! Get out of there and seal the door! They don't have object permanence and they'll forget you once they can't see you!"

"We're surrounded!" Dipper yelled.

Wendy stood back to back with him. She wielded her axe, and he swung a length of pipe. So many of the Poppaparts crowded them that they found it hard to pick a target. "Edge toward the door!" Wendy yelled, swinging the axe and pressing tight against him.

And they almost made it—but just as they fled through the hatch, a burst of hot orange radiation from one of the guns hit them, "Gah!" Wendy shouted.

They stumbled out through the hatch, Dipper slammed it shut, and then he said, "What now?"

"Nothing now," Ford said. "They'll reabsorb and go back into their sleep chamber."

"Reabsorb?" Wendy asked.

"Yes. As they divide, so they unite. They press together, adhere, and gradually shrink back so there's only one. They were shock troops."

"Uh-oh," Dipper said. "Grunkle Ford, I think we have a problem."

* * *

Cutting their clothes off was embarrassing. Then without even thinking to provide the teens with a sheet or towels, Ford and McGucket conferred, and Ford said, "Well, the good news is we can fix this up. I know the technology required. The bad news is it will take us approximately seventy-two hours to create the device. Wendy, call your Dad and tell him you're staying with Mabel for the next couple of nights. Say there's an illness in the family. Oh, sorry. Meanwhile, I'll get you a couple of bathrobes. Fiddleford, get two bathrobes, scissors, and a needle and thread."

* * *

"So," Wendy said when Mabel had left them alone. "Guess we're bunkin' together tonight, dude."

"Yeah," Dipper said. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, Dip. Well, make the most of it. Let's get out of our robes."

That was a little tricky, considering how the robes had been cut and sewn together, but they did it and then, carefully, both of them naked, they slipped into Dipper's bed. "Dude," Wendy said, "which side do you sleep on?"

"Left," Dipper said. "You?"

"Uh. Awkward, but—I can't sleep unless I'm laying on my back."

"OK."

They talked late into the night, and ordinarily it would have been heavenly for Dipper.

But ordinarily they weren't fused together from the napes of their necks down to the ends of their spines.

Anyway, Dipper finally got to sleep with Wendy pressing down warm and soft on him from behind. But he couldn't help wondering—

_Wouldn't it have been better if we'd been standing face to face?_

* * *

_The End_


	7. Goodnight, Goon!

**Goodnight, Goon**

**(Not in my usual continuity, but written for Wendip Week 2018 for the prompt "Bedtime Story")**

* * *

Goodnight, goon!

Goodnight, loon!

Goodnight to the Mystery Twins who defeated you in June.

Goodnight, gnome.

Goodnight, home.

Goodnight Journal 3, you're a grand old tome.

Goodnight scam!

Goodnight wham!

Goodnight, Grunkle Stan, twice as strong as a ram!

Goodnight, sword.

Goodnight, bunker hoard.

Goodnight to the author, our great-uncle Ford!

Goodnight, Mabel.

Goodnight, table.

Goodnight, something that rhymes with Shnable!

Goodnight, Wendy

Goodnight, friendly.

Goodnight in my bed (this could get trendy!)

Goodnight, me.

Goodnight, all that I see.

Am I feeling great? Yes, great as can be!

* * *

The moon shines in the window and paints a triangle on the floor.

Now that we're grown up, Wendy, who could ask for more?

Today we stood before a priest and we both said, "I do."

And here we lie in my old bed. And I am loving you!

Mabel's off to college soon. Stan and Ford are on a cruise.

Soos is sleeping down below—the snores come with the snooze!

Bill Cipher's just a memory. The Shapeshifter is kaput.

The Gnomes are happy with their queen. The Witch is in her hut.

We've climbed the stairs and gone to bed behind a closed, locked door.

We're giggling in each other's arms, our clothes are on the floor.

We had troubles, the good Lord knows, but they didn't last.

Let's think about the present now and not look at the past.

I loved you when you gave me keys to the Shack golf cart,

And when you rode the pines on down, you took hold of my heart.

For us this silence, for us this room, for us this splendid now,

Tomorrow starts our future life, but for the present—Wow!

Here we lie, flesh warm to warm, lips pressed to lips, my wife,

I hope we live a thousand years and love our married life.

But now it's time to draw the shades and shut out one and all,

For here it is, our wedding night. Now—let gravity fall!

* * *

"Dad? What are these words?"

"Hm?" Dipper took off his reading glasses. His four-year-old son held up a couple of pieces of paper. "Let's see." He took them, read them, and grinned. "Mm, these are a little adult for you guys. Just some sorta-kinda poems I wrote for your mom before she was your mom. Stay out of my desk, OK?"

His four-year-old daughter said, "She's  _always_  been our mom!"

"Well," Dipper said, laying his glasses aside, "there  _was_  a time before you guys were born, you know." He looked at the clock over his desk. "Holy Moley, it's past your bedtime!"

Wishing Wendy were back home, he herded them upstairs. Got them into their jammies, made sure they'd brushed their teeth and said their bedtime prayers. But as to bedtime, well, both the twins were yelling, "A story! A story!"

Then footsteps on the stairs, and Wendy, lugging her overnight bag, came to the twins' bedroom door. "You need help, Dip?"

"I got this," he said. "How was the forestry conference?"

"Pretty good. Learned a thing or two. But I missed you, so I managed to catch an earlier red-eye flight back home. And it looks like the kids stayed up past curfew, so I'm glad I did."

Both twins were clamoring, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, you're home!" It had been two whole days without her.

"Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie," Dipper chanted. "It's so great to see you back!"

The twins were both on one bed now, pulling at her. She laughed. "OK, OK, calm down. I'm gonna give you both goodnight kisses!" And she gave each child a big smack on the cheek that made them both giggle.

Dipper wrestled the two redheaded twins into their own beds, gave them his goodnight kisses, and said, "OK, what kind of a story do you want? Giants? Pirates? Princesses in towers? Adventure?"

His son said, "Tell us about the time Auntie Mabel stole the airplane!"

Dipper blinked. "Um—that would take way too long, so maybe that's for another night maybe eight years from now."

His daughter said, "I know! Tell us about when we weren't born yet!"

Dipper sat in the chair beside the bed. Wendy came and sat on his lap. "Yeah," she said, snuggling with her arm round his neck. "Tell them that one."

Dipper put his arms around her. "OK, let's see . . . once a handsome and brave knight discovered that his funny, silly sister had been stolen by a zombie!"

"Ooh, this is going to be a good one!" his daughter said.

"Post your critique after the story," Dipper told her. "Now, this knight had to chase down the zombie and rescue his sister, but he didn't have a horse! He hurried and asked the king of the castle for help, but the king was too busy fleecing rubes—"

"Just like Grunkle Stan!" his son said.

"A lot like him," Dipper agreed. "But then a beautiful princess—"

"With red hair," his daughter said.

"Yes, with beautiful red hair. Just like yours. This princess drove up in a golf cart, and the knight went down on one knee and begged, 'Oh, lady fair, may I borrow the golf cart, for my sister hath been stolen by a zombie, forsooth!' Well, the princess hardly even knew the knight at all. But you know what she did?"

"What? What?"

"She handed him the keys and said, 'Try not to hit any pedestrians!'"

"Ooh!" his son said. "She's a cool princess!"

"I love her!" his daughter said.

"So do I, kids," Dipper told them, patting Wendy's hip. "So do I."

* * *

_The End_


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